(part 5) If there was one moment that defined my summer, this was it; my impromptu interaction with Goldie’s human. Something shifted in me that day, the way ice shifts on the Minnesota lakes when it breaks up and moves during the early spring thaw.
At the time, I did not want to appear greedy and gobble the treat she extended toward me, so I gently accepted the treat and maneuvered it to rest between my teeth. I applied pressure to my jaws and the treat broke and flavor burst forth.
Goldie’s human was watching my face closely, looking for affirmation that I enjoyed the treat she offered. And that was the moment I remember with the greatest clarity, her concern for my well-being. From what I could ascertain from our previous encounters, she was that type of human who enjoyed the joy of others, especially if she was a direct contributor to the aforementioned joy.
I watched as her hand reached up to swat away a buzzing insect, still watching me with utmost concentration. I looked away, intent on relishing my treat. Not really hungry but savoring the tidbit nevertheless.
I realize now I should have done more. I should have barked my thanks. I should have jumped up and bumped my head against her knees in a show of appreciation. I didn’t.
Looking back, it feels like it was a moment missed. Like something important should have been acknowledged, something shared, but wasn’t. A deepening of our relationship, perhaps.
Sometimes I wish I had the power to revisit that moment.
But I don’t.
Then I realized I am not the same as I was that day. I had changed. I am not who I used to be. And while that summer day has faded into memory, I have the power to shape our future interactions.